Oh, Happy Day!!!

My Friday Started With A Voice From The past...

  I got a message from my very first foster mom. She posted something while I slept. A very vigilant Zahir saw it first and deleted it. He then contacted her and gave her my phone number and what time I should be awake. 

  I lost contact with Natalie years ago. She was the nice dispatcher who took me home for my first couple weeks in foster care. One of her colleagues shared a story of a Florida foster child who ended up in Jordan. After reviewing the opening of my blog she realized I was the boy she knew.

  She warned me that I was making a bit too much noise online. She was concerned for me.

  She told me she retired some years ago from Miami-Dade and is now a consultant for APCO. She said I share too much online. "You need to protect yourself over there."

Meet My Friend...

  Baba took me out for dinner. My comfort food is dogs from "Wazzup Dog." Baba's is "Shawarma Reem." It is a family owned chain, but he is fond of the one on second circle. Shawarma is sort of like an Arabic gyro. It is made up of spit roasted and marinated lamb, beef, or chicken meat, a dollop of sauce, pinch of onions, scoop of diced tomatoes, rolled up in a pita... oh and salt, lots and lots of salt. Not exactly heart healthy but so tasty. 

  Baba introduced me to his former student/research assistant as his adopted son Chase, and I learned his name was Nurshah. While we ate in the circle I swear I could hear the guards teeth grinding. Security guys hate open spaces. 

  The joy of eating in the circle for me is no one talks to me. My voice cannot be heard above the traffic noise. I settled in and began eating my sandwich in silence as the men talked.

  There was a young man with Nurshah. He was silently eating as well. I was shocked when Baba said to his protege I would be attending Baba's physics class in the winter. He went on to say he hoped I would eventually move into Nurshah's old roll.

ASL mute draw "A" to mouth

  Nurshah asked me a direct question. I turned to Baba signing that it was too loud, I was mute. That was when I learned the irony of Hazeem's name, as he translated my ASL for Nurshah. Hazeem (Thunder) has a powerful booming voice. We had a quick exchange in ASL. He made my least favorite observation, "I deaf, U dumb..." Baba gently corrected him in ASL with, "Boy prefers M-U-T-E." He knows I hate the term dumb.

  Nurshah asked again if I was a math major, and excited by the universities physics program. I signed back I was just an engineering student, and auditing Baba's class. When Hazeem spoke my words Nurshah laughed and replied so was he when he met the professor. He gestured towards Baba with three fingers. One does NOT point with one finger here, and NEVER directly at a thing or person.

  Nurshah and I chatted back and forth. It was so weird being talked to like an adult, or at least a big kid. We discussed how my path shifted from bioinformatics to a straight engineering degree. I realized Nurshah was a fellow uber-math-nerd as he explained bioinformatics to Hazeem. After a while, it felt as if I was being interviewed.
 
  Fifteen minutes in,our sandwiches were gone. I had a "light bulb moment," maybe I am dumb. I asked Baba, "Why are we here?" He tried for a moment to feign surprise at my question. I told him it was clear I was the focus of this meeting. Why here where I was weak.

  I discovered I was being interviewed by BOTH Nurshah and Hazeem. We walked to a quiet coffee shop and continued our discussion. Turned out Nurshah was not just a former student, but was on the University's admission board. 

Hazeem is a teacher as well. He teaches deaf children, and runs a deaf mute support group. Long story short I will be learning TWO languages Arabic and Levantine Arabic Sign Language

  Baba announced we would be celebrating the return of his son from business in Iran and invited the two men to join us for dinner Monday.

  On the way home Baba encouraged me to get involved with Hazeem's support group. It would be good to meet people like you, maybe your age.

Now We Are Cookin...

  When Baba and I returned home I started my cooking lesson. I had finished making the humus and a veggie tray for mese and I was helping Mama dice onions and veggies for ara’yes. She suddenly announced "Knife down, lesson over!" I obeyed and was about to ask what I had done wrong, when strong hands grabbed my waist from behind me. I have become used to it. The men in the family will often move me out of the way to get what they need.

  I turned my head to see who was man handling me and where they wanted me to move. I made an excited squeak sound as I spun collapsing into Zahir's chest. "It is not Monday!" I was shaking like an over stimulated chihuahua as I wept happy tears into his shirt. He told me he passed on the farewell celebration to get back to me.

  His parents welcomed him home. Then they brought him up to speed, praising my good behavior.

We made it as far as the new sofa. He commended me on a wise purchase, firm yet comfortable. I woke up in our bed. He had our meals brought to the outer room. Then he would bring them in. I didn't realize how fun it could be to spend 24 of 30+ hours in bed.

SO HAPPY!!!